moral inventory

A crimson golden fleece blanketed the cemetery floor, this morning when I woke. It seemed as if the collective leaves gave up the ghost in one swift final breath. This season’s changing of the guards brings humility as I marvel at the bravery of the single clinging leaf.

Oh how I wish for winter all year long; there is something deep within my bones that revels in the grey. My words take moral inventory of the prosperity displaced by which I mean they pour out from the inside of me.

My mind is swarming with thoughts and words and sentences that beat the bleak deeper and deeper onto this page as I stare at the emptiness and bleeding ink streaming down my cheeks.

A wise dear friend of mine so wisely put “I know you taste lightning every now and again...” and so rightly was her truth. I feel the tingle beneath my fingertips as I inhale the bite of winter’s grief.

Sometimes I wonder how one person can change a life so completely.
“You are every word ever written down.” I want to hide you all away- savor every innocent devotion: like a childhood treasure box filled with riches that are only mine to keep.

I am falling with the leaves…